


Birdcage

by plastics



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Name-Calling, Older Man/Younger Man, Public Sex, Rimming, Team Slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastics/pseuds/plastics
Summary: Even when he's not playing, Jack always finds a way to contribute to the team.





	Birdcage

Josh gets to him first, not long into camp. It’s in the rink’s hallway, not a main one but anyone could still walk by, but that doesn’t stop Josh from pushing Jack up against a wall, hand on his neck, and biting into his mouth. He’s not elegant or nice about it, and it makes Jack moan. A tongue slides past his lips and presses against his teeth. Jack sucks on it eagerly, a warm sucking feeling opening up inside him.

“Anyone tell you you’ve got a cocksucker mouth?” Josh asks as he slides his thigh between Jack’s legs.

Jack moans out a “Yeah” and grinds down on solid muscle. Heat pools low in his stomach. He knows it’s not exactly the optimal time or place, but he can’t stop himself either, not when there’s someone else warm, wanting, and taking in front of him.

Except then Josh steps away, holding Jack back against the wall with a strong hand grasping his jaw. Josh is smiling as he says, “I’ll be seeing you around. Keep it ready for me, yeah?”

And with a just-strong-enough-to-make-it-sting tap to the side of Jack’s face, he’s gone.

 

u u u

 

He did cash in later, breaking the seniority order and dragging Jack to the back of the bus. Josh folds him onto the floor, spreads one leg over the rest of the row of seats, and pulls his cock out of his sweatpants. He strokes himself two inches away from Jack's face, smirking while all Jack can do is sit there with a dumb, hungry look on his face.

Josh makes Jack lick his balls first, all soft and sensitive, as the bus rolls out of the parking lot. They’re going to the airport. To Canada. They made it.

“If you get any teeth on my dick, you’re gonna end up more sorry about it than me,” Josh says casually.

“I won’t,” Jack promises with a whisper.

Quinn is sitting in the row in front of them. It means he won’t be able to see them but it’s still a lot, even for Jack.

Josh uses one hand to grip the base of his cock and the other to guide Jack from the crown of his skull. He opens his mouth, letting the salty tip press against his tongue and then back down his throat. It makes Jack gag. He tries to stay quiet and take it, and Josh doesn’t make it any easier, staying put until Jack squeezes his thumbs and soothes himself. His eyes are wet and it’s hard to breathe. It’s a lot. It’s so much.

 

u u u

 

Joel is all mouth. Always has been.

His fingers sting as they dig into the meat of Jack’s ass, but that's more because of the work Mattias had put in before. He was big and mean and had big, mean hands. Before that, it’d been Oliver, who loved his girlfriend too much to take his time, and K’Andre, who’s so nice but can go on forever.

Joel is nice, too, but pushy like he’s still captain. He’d grabbed a pillow to put under Jack’s hips before laying him face down on the mattress and pulling his dick down behind him. It felt awkward, but it meant Joel could get from that insane spot at the head of Jack’s dick to his hole in a straight line with his tongue.

Jack is tired but he can’t help but want it. He whines and pushes back when Joel’s mouth presses against him with a soft, sore sting. Joel pushes him back down and rises up just enough to bite at a red, left behind splotch.

“Calm down, I’ll take care of you,” Joel says fondly. “Slut.”

 

u u u

 

Spencer might not get everything, but he gets enough.

When Jack looks over, Spencer has his eyes closed and his chin tucked to his shoulder, tilted eyebrows drawn together. His breath is coming in jolts.

Mikey fucks easy, sliding in and out of Jack. His whole body feels the drag. He’s on his hands and knees again, pushing back to meet him when the rhythm allows. His dicks swings beneath him messy and awkward, but he doesn’t trust his balance quite enough to reach down.

In the other bed, Spencer gasps loud and then whines, the loudest he’s been all night, and then keeps panting out these desperate noises. Jack can’t keep himself from looking, watching as Spencer is pushed into the mattress.

“Oh, fuck,” Spencer says. “Quinn—”

Quinn has him pinned and is pounding in, hips close and sharp. His eyes are pinned on Spencer’s profile. He drops to glue himself to Spencer’s back and reaches in the gap between the mattress and the cut of his hip, still grinding.

When he comes, Spencer cries out loud enough to get knocks on the wall, distant hollers.

Jack glances back, sees Mikey seeing him, and closes his eyes.

 

u u u

 

The Swedes get him sick. He can feel it in his throat and his face and his body and he hates it. He sits out of the qualifiers and it’s a nightmare. He hates not feeling connected to his team. The trainers and the physician won’t give him a straight answer. Roster decisions aren’t their job at this point, they say. It’s true but frustrating. Jack feels _great_ _—_ okay, he feels passable at best. But he can’t sit out anymore.

He goes to Coach Hastings.

“I don’t know, Jack,” Coach Hastings sighs. “There are a lot of factors. We have a lot of experienced guys out there who know what their doing. Their stamina is still up.”

Coach Hastings is shorter than him, but bigger. Stocky. Aged. Older than Jack’s father, by a few months.

Jack knows he’s not the only guy who’s sick.

The door is locked. Jack is divulged of his clothes, all provided by the team, and stands still has Coach Hastings eyes and then touches him hungrily. He grasps Jack’s sides and runs his hands up and down appraisingly. On an upswing, he massages his thumbs over Jack’s nipples and pinches when Jack gasps. He can’t help but arch into it.

Coach Hastings spreads him out on a desk in his office, on his back and holding his own legs open. It’s cold but Jack can’t quite feel it past the hands cradling his dick and petting his hole. His whole body shivers when he hears and feels Coach Hastings spit on him and spread it around, make him wet.

Jack wheezes, still stuffed, and says, “Coach Hastings—”

He groans loud and hungry before descending onto Jack. His tongue is thick and strong against his hole, working it open without patience. Jack can feel spit dripping down his ass as he feels himself relax around the muscle, dick straining as Coach Hastings massages the head with two lethal fingers.

“Please,” he sobs.

Coach Hastings can’t be rushed but he isn’t patient, either. He fingers Jack past the knuckles because he wants to, but it’s still so overwhelmed when he wedges in the girth of his fat cock into Jack. It makes Jack’s whole body wave but he can’t forget himself, digging his fingers into the space behind his knees. There’s cum pooling on his belly, and he’s not sure where it started or ended or started again. It doesn’t matter, either, because Coach Hastings is still grunting over him, red-faced, taking what he wants from Jack.

Jack pulls his legs higher, wider, his whole body still thirsting. He doesn’t know how he got to this. But he loves it.


End file.
